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"You will die," Zarkos had told her. "But do not be alarmed; it will be alright."

The next morning, Aerithe had tried to tell her companion about her strange dream, but found herself unable to speak. It seemed as though the Gods did not wish her to speak. Perhaps Zarkos wasn't even supposed to give her warning, as he'd fallen silent. Still, Aerithe could feel his presence in her dreams, though he said nothing.

They had reached Prerio City without incident, and now Aerithe wandered the streets in the relatively quiet night. In a city so immaculate, she felt safe--safe enough to forget the dream that had plagued her mind for weeks. There was a quiet nightlife in Prerio. No drunken brawls of pickpockets--only people playing cards in taverns, enjoying chats with other patrons. It would have been nice if Hiro could have joined her, yet he had been asleep in their room when she'd been awoken by an odd feeling, so she'd slipped out into the night to think.

Her chest ached, and she felt her heart beating heavier than normal. She scratched at the gems on her chest, between which rested the constellation of her god, covered by makeup to conceal her status. No matter how much she scratched, the itch wouldn't be satisfied. It wasn't under her claws came back bloody that Aerithe forced herself to stop and try to ignore the persistent itch. Was the constellation burning, or was that simply the sting of fresh scratches in the chilly night air?

A wave of anxiety washed over her. Go to the center of town, something told her, and she obeyed.

Under the flickering light of the lamps that lined the streets, the fountain in the square had been painted in oranges and golds. There were more people here than on the side streets, sitting in benches around the square, or even on the fountain itself. None of them seemed to pay her any mind as she hurriedly walked to the fountain, her breathing heavy. Her hands broke the surface of the water, cupping what she could before splashing it up into her face. Her fair complexion had paled beyond normal; her reflection ashen and pallid. Now the townspeople had begun to pay her mind.

"Are you alright, miss?" A woman asked, her voice far away.

Aerithe's head was swimming, and as she turned to answer the woman white-hot pain shot through her body. She doubled over, writhing, as the pain spread and intensified. She lurched off the fountain, hands and knees hitting the paved square. Her breath left her in shuddering heaves. A crowd had gathered around her now, whispering their hushed concerns.

"G...get ba...ck..." Aerithe choked out between gasps. Her body lurched again, and this time she felt something in her body snap. The pain in her body exploded, and the woman was forced from her human form, skin turning deep blue as her body transitioned from human to dragon, her scream morphing into a roar that bellowed throughout the quiet streets. Citizens jumped back from her flailing serpentine form. Her tail lashed out, shattering part of the stone fountain. Water sprayed everywhere. Someone screamed for a guard.

"Look! Her chest!"

The constellation of Zarkos burned on her chest, no longer hidden from sight. From there the crowd of onlookers began to speak among themselves in less than hushed tones. "Another oracle!" "Is she dying?" "What's going on?" "Someone do something!" "Don't get too close to it!"

She couldn't breathe.

Aerithe tried to scream. As her mouth opened, the air around the square stirred. A visible twister tore from her maw, and she thrashed in an attempt to breathe, her head frozen in its skyward position.

Oh gods... she would be the third oracle to die. The thought terrified her as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her chest burned as she struggled to draw in air, and her vision slowly faded as she lost consciousness, her eyes open, unfocused, and unblinking. Each second ticked by agonizingly slow, and all the crowd could do was watch in horror as Aerithe suffocated.

As the life drained from from body, the words of Zarkos resonated through the dragoness' very soul: It will be alright.

Take care of Hiro, she pleaded.

It will be alright.

With those words, she surrendered herself into the hands of her god, and her soul passed through the veil into the beyond. The body left was nothing but an empty shell, devoid of life. The twister vanished into the night, and the corpse fell to the ground, now silent and still. Her death had only taken mere minutes, but it had sent shock waves through Prerio. She had seen it in a dream, but the people had seen it firsthand.

A third oracle had perished, and the city fell into an unearthly silence.